Page 18 of Good Girl's Guide to Love
“Wait! Again? Meaning you’ve done it before?” Mia grabs the second shot off the table and throws it back before slamming her hands on the table. “How did I not know this? I just always thought it was a no-no because it’s semi-rebellious and you are, well, not…”
I laugh at the dramatics of my best friend. But then again, I do understand why for her this would be very much breaking news. “Yes, again. I’ve drank once. Well, one and a half.”
“Forget Jonathan. Forget karaoke. This is the story I need to hear.”
“It was my twenty-first birthday,” I begin.
“Of course, because it was against the rules to drink before you were legal.”
“Exactly,” I say. “Anyway, being that I had never drank, my whole family was excited. My birthday was on a Wednesday, and I was planning on going home that weekend to celebrate with my family, but my sorority sisters were bound and determined to take me out. Actually, we were cliche Nashville and went to Tootsies.”
“That tracks.”
“Yes. And things were going fine. I was having a good time. Taking shots, making sure I drank water between, because I knew I needed to stay hydrated.”
“We love a responsible queen.”
I was. Until I wasn’t. “Well, the responsibility went right out of the door when someone handed me a shot of Jägermeister.”
I watch as Mia visibly shivers. “Are you meaning to tell me that your aversion to alcohol is because of the dark liquor of death?”
“Pretty much,” I say with nod. “I puked for two days. I barely made it back to Rolling Hills for my birthday. I tried to take a drink, but the smell of alcohol made me gag. I convinced the lovely bar owner to substitute my shots of vodka for water. The club soda and cranberry? It was the drink he gave me to make it look like I had some sort of fruity drink. I’ve drank it ever since.”
“Damn,” she says. “Many of us say that we’re never drinking again after visiting the Porcelain Princess then go back within a week. Your willpower is amazing.”
“What can I say? When I commit, I don’t waver.”
Mia laughs as the song and performer changes. The two guys who get up on stage look familiar as they start rapping a boy band classic, but I can’t put my finger on it so I turn back to Mia.
“Now, I don’t want this to come out as peer pressure-y,” she says. “But have you ever wanted to take a drink again?”
“Sometimes,” I admit. “But it’s more out of FOMO. Take tonight, for example, pre-Jonathan. Your martini looked good, and I felt like my being depressed over my singlehood didn’t hit the same with club soda. And there have been times I’ve wondered what the wine my sisters shared was like. But never enough to take my chances again.”
“That’s fair. It also tracks. Knowing how you are with actual rules, it makes sense you’d be like that with self-imposed ones.”
“Exactly,” I say. “Rule follower to the core.”
“One day I’m going to get you to be a little bad,” she says with a wink. “And it’s going to be the best day of my life.”
I laugh. “Many have tried. All have failed. Remember, my sister is Quinn Banks. If she can’t get me to act up, I don’t know if it’s possible.”
And believe me, growing up, she tried. I’m the next born sibling to her, so I think she felt it as her duty to try to get me in trouble. Or at least, an accomplice to her crimes. Even at a young age, I wanted nothing to do with it. It only took me going to time-out once to know I never wanted to be in that corner again.
Once I hit middle school, I realized I needed to put my good-girl ways into overdrive. When teachers look at you and mutter, “Are you Quinn’s sister?”, you do everything you can to make sure you break any sort of preconceived notion they have about you.
Because of course they couldn’t remember that Maeve was a prized student. Or that Simon might’ve caused some trouble, but teachers loved him too much to care. No, all they remembered was the most recent. Though in their defense, Quinn was a memorable student, and not for positive reasons. Which is why it’s hilarious that she went into education.
However, what I didn’t realize was that going out of my way to be the good girl of the Banks bunch triggered what I’d learn later was a people-pleasing mentality. I loved it when teachers praised me for a good job. Or for being the only one to follow directions. And not only did I want their approval, I was fueled by it. I still am. I live for when a doctor compliments my work. Or when a new mama thanks me for everything I did for her. Of course, I love my job, and bringing new babies into the world is the best feeling I can imagine. But a patient telling you that you made their experience better? It’s a close second.
“Well, your self-control, and your rule following ways, astound me,” Mia says as she holds up her drink. “Though, I need you to know that if you ever want to try again, not all alcohol tastes like ass. Which is what Jäger tastes like.”
“If I ever decide to take the plunge again, I’ll make sure you give me your top recommendation.”
Mia taps on her nose before excusing herself to use the restroom. I offer to stay here, since the bar is filling up and we don’t want to lose our table. With her being gone, I turn to the stage and listen to a singer who’s way too good to be at karaoke. Then again, this is Nashville. Finding a good singer is easier than finding a worm at an apple orchard.
I start to get lost in the melody and lyrics of the bluesy song that I’d honestly forgotten about. I feel my eyes close, which is what I do whenever I hear a good song. I think every girl who once danced competitively does this. We hear a song, and just like we used to do in our bedrooms, we start seeing movements. Or think about what trick we’d do during a strong accent of a song. I haven’t danced in more than ten years, but I don’t think this ever goes away. Especially when I need to take my mind off something. To me, there’s no better way to forget about your problems then just dancing it out.
I feel myself swaying to the music than I should when a voice stops me cold.
